Double Vision
by Lydia Hunter
Summary: Batman is pulling doubleduty as he must choose once again between duty and his family. Rated PG13 fr mild sexual references.


DOUBLE OR NOTHING ****

DOUBLE VISION 

Author's Note: _Companion piece to Partners in Crime. Bruce and Selina have been married for several months. Parts of this story actually appear in the larger work. Incidentally, these stories are several years old now, and this is the last in the series. I have notes for a few others, including a half-written Talia story, but I ran out of steam. Sorry about that._

****

"Oh, Bruce, are you _sure _you won't be able to stay for the reception?"

Bruce Wayne sighed. "I'm sorry, Grace. I would if I could, but I have to get home to Selina. You understand."

Grace Lamont, who had just amused most of Gotham City's stodgy legal community by willingly taking on the name Grace Lamont-Cranston, smiled at her old friend. "Yes, of course. Who would have ever thought that the eternal bachelor playboy would end up leaving a party early to go home to his pregnant wife! I am sorry your wife couldn't make it herself. When is the baby due?"

"Several days ago, actually. So she really isn't up to socialising much these days, I'm afraid." He didn't add that Selina couldn't tolerate Grace under any circumstances, calling her the worst kind of priggish hypocrite. Bruce himself could never understand his wife's antipathy toward his old friend, especially since most of his old girlfriends didn't bother her.

Grace touched her new husband on the arm. "Don, darling, I'm just going to walk Bruce out. I'll only be a minute." He nodded fondly and shook hands with Bruce, then turned back to some other guests.

In the church foyer, Grace stopped abruptly, catching hold of Bruce's wrist. "Bruce, wait just a second, all right? I..."

He looked at her with concern. "What's the matter, Grace?"

She hesitated, biting her lip anxiously. "Harvey," she said quietly.

He understood. Harvey Dent had been her fiancé, and his own best friend, until a horrible disfiguring accident had driven him mad, turning him into an obsessed criminal who called himself Two-Face. For a long time she had remained strictly faithful to her first love, praying that some miracle would restore him to her. But it hadn't happened, and eventually Grace had fallen in love with her law partner and made plans to get on with her own life. After all, it had been almost four years now.

"I thought that's probably what it was. Don't worry, Grace. The guards at Arkham are keeping an especially close eye on him for the next few days. He won't hurt you and Don, I promise."

She lowered her eyes in the demure manner that drove Selina crazy, and said softly. "Oh, I hope you're right, Bruce. Don's been so wonderful, so understanding. He doesn't deserve to suffer because of my past. But I can't help being worried about Harvey, too. How's this going to affect him? He's been through so much, and I hate to cause him any more pain on top of that."

"I know that. I wish I could say something reassuring, but I just don't know how he'll take it. But Arkham has some of the best professionals in the world, and they'll help him deal with it. Don't worry," he repeated.

"They haven't helped him a lot so far, though," Grace said, with just a trace of bitterness.

She turned to go. "Grace," Bruce called. "You deserve to be happy, you and Don both. Don't let anything come between you and that happiness, okay?"

"I'll try, Bruce," she promised with a smile. "Now you go home and look after your little family.

Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane lay on the outskirts of Gotham City, in an area known as the Somerset district. The large, pseudo-Gothic/Victorian mansion was the only dwelling in the vicinity, and with good reason. For one thing, it was a desolate, ugly landscape, and for another, more important reason, it wasn't safe to live anywhere near the asylum. Arkham housed some of the most dangerous psychopaths in the world, and their security was laughable at the best of times. There was a running joke all along the east coast about Arkham's revolving door. All any criminal needed to do, they said, was just walk up to the guard at the door and ask nicely, and he'd be out. Unfortunately, the joke was far too close to the truth, and escapes were all too frequent. 

The guard assigned to Two-Face was a veteran of the place, and bored with the duty. He had been ordered to keep him isolated from the other inmates for the next few days, something to do with his old girlfriend, and the worry that certain patients wouldn't be able to resist teasing him in a way that would drive him right over the edge. Personally, this guard, Ronald Davidson by name, thought it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to just let them at each other's throats. With any luck maybe the survivors would be easier to handle....

"All, right, Dent. In ya go." Davidson held the heavy door of one of the recreation rooms open for his charge. Two-Face shuffled through the opening, grumbling something the guard couldn't understand, and wouldn't care to translate. Without bothering to take a look around the room, he shut the door behind the patient and locked it securely, then settled down in the chair outside for a nice little nap.

Two-Face collapsed on the uncomfortable sofa, not bothering with the lights, and reached for the TV remote control. He flipped through the channels for a minute or so, waiting for the news show to come back from their commercial break. He'd timed it just right; the local news was just going into their "People and Personalities" segment, and the lead story tonight was about Grace's wedding. He sat staring at the images of the woman he'd loved, coming out of the church on the arm of another man. Smiling at him the way she would have smiled at Harvey if _this_ hadn't happened to him. 

Grace. His Grace. Married. To some smarmy upscale lawyer who was already rumoured to be making a run for mayor this year, and not exactly honestly, either. That was something else Harvey and Grace had planned, too, only he would have done it without taking bribes. Cranston was obviously a thief, he could tell by looking at him. After all, hadn't he stolen Grace?

The more he thought about it the angrier he felt. Even after his accident, even after everything that had happened to him, she had promised to wait for him. And now.... Finally he had all he could take of the pictures on television, and that idiot gossip columnist acting like this was the greatest thing that had ever happened. He flung the remote at the television set, trying to shatter it, but it bounced harmlessly off and fell on the floor as Mary Streate went onto her next bit of fluff.

"Poor Harvey. This just hasn't been your day, has it?" said a soft female voice from the shadows. One of the shadows detached itself from a corner and moved toward him. 

She stepped into the pool of light from the TV set, giving him a good look at her. He had recognised her voice, of course, just as she had known he would, but she wanted him to have a good view of her silhouette. She was small, not much over five feet, and curvy in a petite way, even in the uniforms the inmates were made to wear most of the time. Her long red hair spilled over her shoulder, framing a heart-shaped face with green eyes that looked positively evil.

"How did you get in here?" he growled. "Leave me alone before I call the guard."

Poison Ivy smiled, looking dangerous and oh, so seductive at the same time. That was her specialty. "I guess you could do that. But then you'd be left all alone, shut away from everyone else. That's what they're doing, you know. They're afraid the rest of us will tease you about your girlfriend marrying that lawyer and drive you crazy. Don't they know you're already crazy, Harv?" she asked sweetly. 

He glared at her, but made no move to summon the guard. Knowing she'd made her point, she continued. "Poor Harvey. Why should you be punished just because _she_ betrayed _you?_ That's the ultimate betrayal. You do realise that, don't you?"

"Be quiet, Ivy," he ordered. His voice was still a growl — he couldn't help that, his vocal cords had been injured in the explosion that scarred half his body and all of his mind — but it was a softer growl.

"She never was half woman enough for you, though, was she?" Poison Ivy continued. "Just the other end of the extreme. She was as far away from me as you could get. Rebound romances never work out, you know. Even if you'd married her, you'd never have been able to stop thinking about what you used to have. You'd never have been really happy with a prim and proper professional virgin. Not after having a _real_ woman...." She let her voice trail off, watching him closely, gauging his reaction. 

And he was reacting, all right. He was angry, still glaring at her with his one good eye, as well as the one on his bad side, a huge, distended yellow orb that always glared, even when the good side of his personality was in control. But there was something else, as well. He was breathing heavily, and not entirely with rage. Just exactly what she wanted. 

As a matter of fact, Grace Lamont had been his _second_ fiancee. His first love had been one Pamela Isley, now known as Poison Ivy, and that relationship, brief and violent though it had been, had never been entirely exorcised from his system. Or hers, either, it seemed. She had only led him on in the first place to get close to him so she could kill him, for sentencing her precious plants to extinction. But there had been a few beneficial side effects of the week they spent together, and she had thought about them off and on over the last several years. Frankly, there were a few things she wouldn't mind trying again, and this just had to be the perfect opportunity. 

"Don't you remember, Harvey? Don't you remember how it was between us. I'll bet you've never had anyone do the things to you that I did, have you?" she went on relentlessly, strolling around the room, brushing the back of the sofa sensuously with her hand, only inches from his neck. 

He gulped, and let his breath out in a shudder. He was fighting it, but she was getting to him. "Shut up," he groaned. "Shut up."

Ivy smiled again. "Yes, I see you do remember, don't you, honey? I didn't think you could ever forget something like that. It's too special, too intense. Not something you could ever find again. Especially with a frigid little society lawyer. Fine for the courtroom, better for the church room, but the bedroom...? Oh, I don't think so."

Two-Face was starting to get angry again. "Don't... talk... about... _her!" _he warned. His bad side was beginning to stir, make its presence felt.

She put one hand up to her mouth in a gesture of mock dismay. "Oh, dear, I'm so sorry," she said mockingly. "Did I hit a nerve, Harvey, darling? Of course, I should have realised. With someone like that you would never have had a chance to try out the bedroom. She was insisting on saving it for the wedding night, wasn't she? Oh, well, I doubt you missed much!"

He was off the sofa in an instant, grabbing her hands roughly. "I said _Shut up! _you evil little — "

Instead of being frightened, as anyone else would have been, Poison Ivy giggled. "Oh, darling, you're still so impulsive! Still the man who swept me off my feet all those years ago." She reached up to caress the scarred side of his face.

He didn't sweep her off her feet this time, he knocked her off them, slamming her into the wall with a force that drove the breath from her lungs. Unable to speak for a moment, she retaliated by grabbing his hair and pulling it as hard as she could. Then she changed her grip and pulled his head down toward hers.

He found himself kissing her savagely, biting her lips, his hands roughly fumbling with her clothes, and with his own. 

The Bat signal lit up the night sky over Gotham. As Batman landed lightly on the roof of police headquarters, he looked around for Commissioner Gordon. Instead, he found Detective Harvey Bullock and the deputy commissioner, Sarah Gordon. 

"I was expecting your husband," Batman said.

Sarah bristled just a bit. "Jim is tied up in a meeting with the mayor, concerning security for the governor's visit next week. Don't you think I'm competent enough to handle the department in his absence?" she asked archly.

Bullock looked on with interest. Relations between the two had never been particularly good, and since he wasn't the world's biggest Bat fan himself, this could be good. 

Batman merely shrugged slightly. "I have no reason to think otherwise, Mrs. Gordon. What's going on this time?"

"Two-Face has escaped from Arkham. So far there's no sign of him."

"I knew he'd do it," sighed Batman. "It was just too much to hope for that he would let his ex-fiancee's marriage pass without some reaction."

Sarah nodded. "So far he hasn't made a move on the Cranstons, but we've already assigned a police guard outside their door, and we've increased patrols in the area.

"Good." He nodded approvingly. "I'll see what I can do from my end," he added.

She stopped him as he turned to leave. "There's a little more to the story this time. Apparently before he escaped he tried to kill another Arkham inmate. He was supposed to be kept away from everyone else, but the guard didn't bother checking carefully enough during his recreation hour. When he heard the struggle and checked, he found Two-Face strangling Poison Ivy. And when he moved into the room, Two-Face ran right over him and escaped somehow. Details are still a little sketchy."

"Yeah," grinned Bullock. "They got so many escape holes out there it takes 'em awhile to check 'em all."

"How's Ivy?" Batman asked tersely.

"She'll live," answered Sarah. 

"Knowing Poison Ivy, she was probably tormenting him about Grace Lamont."

Bullock snickered. "There's more to it than that, Bats. See, it wasn't exactly what you'd call premeditated. He tried to strangle her while they were busy — "

Sarah Gordon cleared her throat. "At first they thought he had raped her, but when she regained consciousness she made it very clear she was more than willing to participate. So it was a case of rough sex that got out of hand," she explained. Bullock gave another dirty laugh, obviously enjoying the whole situation immensely.

"Great," sighed Batman, and disappeared off the roof with a swirl of cape. 

Sarah allowed herself a brief smile of triumph as she watched him go. Jim complained often about Batman's habit of disappearing in a split second without anyone seeing him go, but Sarah didn't give him the chance to do that. She would stand and stare at him until he left. She had a feeling that had more to do with his marked preference for her husband than anything else. He didn't like having his little game spoiled. 

Of course, neither did she, so she frowned at Bullock when he chuckled and said, "Got 'im again, huh, Miz Commish?" 

Later that night, Batman returned home to his cave, his feud with the deputy commissioner long since forgotten. Two-Face still hadn't shown himself, and he could isolate a list of possible hideouts he might consider appropriate, they'd be that much closer to finding him. 

He hadn't been at work very long when he heard someone moving in the cave's deep shadows. Expecting his butler to be checking on him as usual, he didn't bother turning around. A moment later he was distracted by a pair of slender arms that definitely didn't belong to Alfred snaking around his neck. 

"Mmm," he sighed pleasurably. He reached back over his head to touch the newcomer. "Where's Alfred?"

"Is that all you have to say? Does this mean the honeymoon's over?" objected his wife. He chuckled, and so did Selina. "Alfred is busy helping our guest get settled in, so I came down to see if you needed anything."

Batman smiled, an expression that to say the least was out of place on his face, but she had that sort of effect on him. "Good. You're a lot prettier than Alfred. We have a guest?"

Selina moved around in front of him, leaning against the computer console. "Leslie," she explained briefly. "She conned somebody into looking after the clinic for her, and she's moved in lock, stock, and stethoscope. She plans to stay here and look after me until the baby comes." 

Her expression told very plainly what she thought of the idea. Selina had had quite a fight on her hands getting her own mother to stay in Chicago instead of coming to be at her daughter's side, because she couldn't stand being nagged and fussed over. And Leslie Thompkins, who had been Bruce's father's best friend and had been named Bruce's guardian when his parents had died, was best known for nagging, scolding and fussing, especially when it was for a patient's own good. 

"Poor Selina," sympathised her husband. "Maybe it'll all be over soon." 

She sighed. "I certainly hope so. I'm sick of this whole thing." She spread her hands over the bulge of her stomach and made a face.

"So, I heard on the news that he managed to get out after all. Any leads?"

He shook his head. "Not one, much less two. I'm trying to track down places he might use as a hideout, someplace we might have overlooked. I wish Robin wasn't off chasing the Fisherman. This might go a little easier with some help. As it is, I'll be working at least till dawn."

"Well, I'd offer to help patrolling, but I sort of can't fit in my costume at the moment. At least tomorrow is Saturday, so you don't have to go to the office."

"Mm-hmm, small favours," he said distractedly, turning his attention to the computer files.

Selina watched her husband in silence for several minutes. "Alfred wanted me to ask if you plan on having dinner anytime before breakfast," she said finally.

"Later," he grunted, typing busily.

"Okay, fine by me. But you do realise that Leslie will probably come down here and force feed you if you put it off too long, don't you?" The tone of her voice was playful, but they both knew it wasn't much of an exaggeration.

He looked up. "She might. All right, tell Alfred to send down a tray or something." He gave her a closer look. In the gloomy light she looked tired and ill; this had been rather a difficult pregnancy almost from the beginning, and she had been having a really bad time of it since her due date had gone past with no sign of anything happening. "Then why don't you go on to bed?" he suggested more gently. "I'll be up whenever I can, hopefully."

She shook her head. "I'm not going to bed," she protested. "I'm sick of lying down all the time. It's all I do anymore! I'm not cut out to be a nice little house cat. Oh, what I wouldn't give to be out helping you track down Two-Face! Or anyone else for that matter."

"You will be soon enough," he promised. He reached out for her, intending to drag her down into his lap.

"Don't," she said. "Bruce! If you do that I won't be able to get up again." He transferred his grip to her wrist, holding it gently, caressing her hand. With her other hand she reached out to stroke his cheek. "I'll send Alfred down with a tray," she said softly, and headed toward the elevator.

Batman watched her go, frowning slightly. He didn't need Leslie to tell him he wasn't being fair to her. He had married Selina knowing quite well that his secret life would take him away from her often, take time and attention that by rights ought to belong to her and their soon-to-be family, but they had both thought they could deal with it. And so far they had, but not without a lot of stress, and a lot of sacrifices. But lately an unexpected side-effect was cropping up, more and more often. To borrow a metaphor from Two-Face, he was beginning to see the other side of the coin. How in the world was he ever going to concentrate on doing his job when half his attention was distracted, worrying about her?

It was still mid-evening, not even fully dark yet, but the Batmobile was already prowling the streets. Not for the first time, Batman cursed the long daylight hours of late summer. He could get to work hours earlier during the winter, not to mention getting home that much...

A sudden flurry of activity on the police band grabbed his attention, cutting short his private gripes.

"Identical twins, matching the description of Two-Face's known accomplices, spotted in the vicinity of Fifth and Date!" squawked a voice from the radio. 

Batman made a u-turn in the narrow street and headed for Date Avenue.

Another voice, one he recognised as belonging to a rookie named Benson, came over the radio. "Uh, I'm in the Julian Falls subdivision, and there's a black and white car cruising around about a block ahead of me. Could I get some backup down here?"

_Jumpy, _thought Batman dismissively. Another call came in moments later, placing more of Two-Face's gang at another location across the city. _Can't be two places at once, unfortunately. I'll just — wait just a minute!_

Julian Falls. Julian Falls. That struck a cord somewhere. He called up the information on the car's computer link. It was a new suburb of Gotham, just outside the city's northeastern boundary. Lots of nice, expensive houses going up, much favoured by politicians, city councilmen and the sort. And Don Cranston! He remembered now. Don had mentioned several weeks ago that he and Grace were looking at houses in that area. Just the right sort of image for an up-and-coming young mayoral candidate. No one had ever mentioned if they'd actually bought the house or not, but if they did... oh, God. What a perfect, private place to spend a honeymoon, with everyone expecting them to be at Grace's apartment in the city. The place the police were guarding even now.

He whipped the Batmobile around and headed for Julian Falls at top speed.

Back at Wayne Manor, Selina Wayne and Leslie Thompkins were sitting side by side on the couch in the spacious living room, surrounded by cats, three of whom were making a valiant if rather vain attempt to share Selina's almost nonexistant lap. The two humans were making an equally vain attempt to make conversation. They liked each other very well, but at the moment neither woman was able to think about much besides the subject they didn't want to talk about. 

Selina was not, despite her current condition, a particularly maternal woman. And she had exhausted her tolerance for discussing baby clothes and paraphernalia, and babies in general, quite some time ago. 

The old doctor, who had never had children of her own, never tired of babies, but she still had doubts about the wisdom of Bruce and Selina having children. They were a wonderful couple, she adored them both, and it had been one of the happiest days of her life when they finally got married, but it was difficult to imagine the two of them as anyone's _parents._ Bruce had already raised one child, the ten year old boy he had taken in following the death of his parents, and in Leslie's opinion he just hadn't been the greatest father in the world. Granted, Dick was the nicest young man she knew, and the bond between them both was unshakeable, but he had suffered a lot of inattention thanks to his guardian's obsession with his life as a crimefighter. 

"Who is it Dick is out chasing again? Some new serial killer, isn't it?" she asked suddenly. In her haste to find someone suitable to look after her free clinic down in the area known as Crime Alley, she hadn't been able to give more than a cursory glance at the news the last couple of days.

Selina, who had been staring intently at her wristwatch, started. "Oh! Yeah, from out of state, believe it or not. The press started calling him 'the Fisherman,' because he always leaves his victim's head dangling from a fishing pole."

Leslie screwed up her mouth in distaste. "Charming. I'm surprised Bruce didn't have to take off after this one himself."

"Oh, he would have, under normal circumstances, but he thought he should stay in town """because of me." Her husky voice held a faint note of something Dr. Thompkins recognised as self-disgust. 

"Well, I'm delighted to hear it," she said briskly. "It's about time he grew up and started acting like a husband and father instead of a vigilante."

Selina snorted. "I think acting like a father is part of it. Don't you think it just about killed him to send Dick out after someone as dangerous as the Fisherman? With only little Barbara to help? You know how he feels about those kids. I'll tell you something, Leslie, I'm almost glad Two-Face escaped so Bruce has something to concentrate on instead of sitting around the house going crazy from inactivity, the way I'm doing."

Leslie shook her head, biting back the sharp retort that came to mind. "Well, I've been afraid to ask you before this, but does this mean you're planning on going back to being Catwoman once the baby comes?"

"In a split second! Just as soon as I'm able I'll be in costume and out on those rooftops again." She turned away and screwed up her eyes tightly for a moment, then let out a shallow sigh.

Leslie was angry enough not to notice. "I guess I was right when I said you two were absolutely made for each other! You are just as bad as your husband."

"Good," Selina said weakly. "Look, I... I have to go lie down for awhile, okay? I really don't feel well."

She certainly didn't _look _well. Leslie went back into her kindly physician mode almost instantly. "Are you all right, Selina?" she asked with concern. "Have you had any contractions?"

"I just have to go upstairs. I hope Bruce gets home soon." As she started for the stairs, Leslie's arm around her for support, the grandfather clock began to strike ten.

Batman cruised around the suburb slowly. Thanks to the layout of the place, all circles and crescents and dead-end streets, it took several minutes before he finally spotted the police car in the 300 block of East Falls Drive. Benson's car was alone; either the police had chosen not to waste manpower on a rather hysterical demand for backup, or Batman had gotten there ahead of them. The black and white limo was nowhere to be seen.

He parked in the dark close around the corner and went to check out the area on foot. He paused for a moment to watch the police cruiser from the shadows. Inside the car, Benson was looking around the neighbourhood with frightened eyes. His older partner, apparently also dismissing the limo as unimportant, was catching a nap.

There were only three houses on the next block which were occupied. Batman checked them all in turn. In the first house, a family was having dinner in the kitchen. The father and daughter seemed to be sharing a joke, while the mother scolded her pre-school son for spilling his milk. The Dark Knight smiled wistfully and went on.

In the living room of the second house, with the lamps turned down low, a young woman was doing a striptease in front of a middle-aged man who might be her husband, but probably wasn't.

He moved on to the last house, his suspicions aroused. No one seemed to be around downstairs, although the kitchen light was on. Moving around to the front, he noticed the house number with a sinking feeling: 222. _Nothing like issuing an open invitation, Don, _he thought.

Batman headed for the roof. In the back of the house, hidden from view of the street, was a large master bedroom with a skylight. Tufted pale blue fabric blinds covered it from the inside, probably controlled by some sort of pulley system on the wall. He stepped onto the wood shingled roof and walked the length of the skylight. In the middle there was a slit where the blinds weren't completely closed, so he looked inside.

So far so good. Grace and Don were in bed, toasting each other with champagne. Batman retreated quickly. If he wanted to be a peeping tom, he'd go next door. He climbed down and made his way around the side, noticing what must be the hall window was only a few feet away.

In the back of the house, the kitchen door swung open in the breeze.

"Promise me it'll always be like this, Don?" pleaded Grace Cranston. (After a little further thought, she'd decided the hyphenation might not be such a great idea after all.)

Her new husband wrinkled his nose at her affectionately. "Always. On the outside we may be the stodgiest, most respectable old married couple, but we'll know the truth, won't we, Lambkin?"

Grace sighed ecstatically and sipped at her champagne flute. A sanctimonious goody-two-shoes she might be accused of being, but she had nothing against drinking... in strict moderation and in with proper occasion of course. She was beginning to feel a little tipsy, but she wasn't sure if that was the champagne or just love.

She had just opened her mouth to ask her bridegroom that very question when the bedroom door burst open with a splintering crash!

Two-Face rushed into the room, turning the lights up to full power as he entered. Two of his goons followed him in.

Grace, suddenly quite sober, shrieked and grabbed her robe, holding it in front of her nightgown protectively. Don stared at the intruders in shock for several seconds, eyes popping.

"Now, see here," he blustered, recovering himself finally. He climbed out of bed and tried to did his best to appear in control, even in his pajamas. "This is private property, and you're a wanted felon. I could have you arrested for this!"

Two-Face looked from Grace to Don and back again. "Grace, Grace, Grace," he said disappointedly, shaking his head. "You married _this? _Go ahead, councillor," he added to Cranston, who had made a move to pick up the phone.

Don started to dial the number, then realised that although the phones had been installed, they weren't supposed to be connected until Monday. He stared at the instrument stupidly, then looked back up at the intruder. "What do you want with us?" he asked, rather unnecessarily. 

"I don't really know," answered Two-Face calmly. He moved toward the bed and Grace, who shrank back. Don involuntarily stepped backwards, then realised he should make some sort of attempt to protect his wife.

"Funny, isn't it?" mused Two-Face, staring at his ex-fiancee. "For years I wanted to be right there," — pointing at the empty space next to her in the bed — "I used to dream about it. Something to look forward to. A reason to get well, the doctors said. Now I don't even know why I bothered," he said in disgust.

Grace ignored the words and the insulting tone. All she heard was the calmness of his voice. It should have warned her, but instead she took it to mean Harvey's good side was in control, and maybe she might have a chance to reach him before his bad side took over again. She crawled toward the end of the bed and knelt there, reaching out toward him in a gesture of supplication. 

"Harvey," she said gently. "You still have plenty of reasons to get well. You have to do it for yourself, not for someone else. And I know you're a good enough reason. Inside that shattered exterior there's still a very wonderful man, one of the gentlest, kindest individuals I've ever met, and I'll always be grateful for having known him."

She reached up and touched his scarred hand softly. He made no attempt to dislodge her hand, and she began to believe she might be getting through to him. He moved another step closer, and reached out with his good hand to stroke her hair. She bowed her head, feeling success was imminent. Without warning, he twisted his fingers tightly through the blonde tresses, jerking her head up roughly. She whimpered in pain. Don took a step toward her side, making as if to protest, but was dissuaded by Two-Face's henchman and the gun he held against his ribs.

"Save your _gratitude, _Grace!" growled Two-Face, his bad side emerging and regarding her with absolute contempt. "I've seen your gratitude, leaving me to marry this disgusting _wimp,_ and expecting me to stand back and congratulate you. Yeah, she was right about you all along. It makes me sick to look at you!" With that, he released her with one final tug, sending her sprawling backwards against the sheets. 

The second henchman, standing close to the door, kept moving his head to listen to something. "Hey, boss, I think I heard somethin' downstairs," he said.

"Then go and check it out, idiot," ordered his boss impatiently. He disappeared, and his cohort moved to take his place, figuring Cranston wasn't going to cause too much trouble. 

"Wh-what are you going to do with us?" Don asked nervously. He put an arm around Grace's shoulders, and the two exchanged frightened glances.

Without replying, Two-Face put a hand in his pocket and withdrew a small, silver object. It was his coin, the famous double-headed silver dollar, scarred on one side, that he used to make all his decisions. He placed the coin on his thumb and sent it spinning into the air.

Alfred rushed into the library with uncharacteristic haste. "Dr. Thompkins! Miss Selina just called down from upstairs — she needs you immediately!" He was breathing a bit hard.

Leslie didn't spare the elderly butler a glance. Stopping only long enough to grab her medical bag, she bolted for the stairs with surprising speed for her own age and physical condition.

The scene that met her eyes when she reached the bedroom was almost nightmarish. Selina, obviously in heavy labour, had collapsed on the floor on the way back from the bathroom. She had crawled to the bedside phone to summon help, but she couldn't manage to lift herself onto the bed. Her green eyes were wide and frightened, a very unusual condition for such a stalwart woman.

"Oh, my lord," breathed Alfred. He and Leslie rushed to her side, using their combined support to help her to the bed. 

Selina lay back, exhausted. She attempted a weak grin. "This is embarrassing," she said.

Alfred retreated discreetly out of sight behind the door while Leslie briskly began to examine the patient. "I'll telephone for an ambulance."

"Actually, I don't think there's even going to be time for that. We're going to have to do this thing right here, right now." _And I pray to God there won't be any complications, _she thought to herself. "Alfred, hurry up and sterilize some scissors for me, and get me some clean towels. Preferably warmed, but if there isn't time we'll have to make do."

"Right away." He hurried downstairs, resisting with no difficulty the impulse to employ the old joke about boiling some water. Levity was his strong suit, but priorities were priorities.

Leslie turned to Selina with a scowl. "And just how long have you been in labour?" she asked severely. 

"I don't know. A few hours. I didn't think it would happen this fast. I've heard all these stories about 36 hour labors, and — " She broke off suddenly, voice rising on the last word, as another contraction hit.

Leslie waited until it was finished before she spoke. "Uh, huh. And what about all the stories about babies born in elevators and taxis? What in the world were you thinking about, not telling me what was happening?" she demanded.

"I wanted to wait for Bruce. I need him here."

"Yes, you do," agreed the doctor. "And I just may murder him myself for this stunt," she added to herself. Then she took up scolding Selina again. "Your husband is an idiot! If he weren't an idiot he'd be here where he belongs instead of off chasing criminals. And if _you _weren't an idiot, you wouldn't be in this predicament now. You'd be in a nice, clean hospital, hopefully with Bruce by your side, with all the medical staff you might need, instead of just a crusty old heart surgeon turned G.P."

"Do you yell at all your patients, Leslie?" Selina asked mildly.

"Only the ones who do stupid things. Now, we've got work to do here."

She fished out her stethoscope, used for generations in lieu of a fetal heart monitor, and moved it around the abdomen. Her expression changed to one of surprise as she listened. "Did you know you're having twins?" she asked conversationally.

Selina nodded. "We found out several months ago. We wanted to save it as a surprise. I guess we thought it would be kind of fun keeping it a secret."

The old doctor sighed and rolled her eyes. "You two are quite a pair, I must say. If that's your idea of fun.... Well, I said right from the start that Bruce had found his ideal mate in you, and you've never given me cause to doubt it. You're just alike. Unfortunately."

The statement wasn't exactly flattering, but Selina was too busy by that point to pay any attention.

Don watched, mesmerized, as the coin spun and began to fall. Without really planning to, he reached out angrily and caught it in mid-air. Then he stood frozen in horror as the realisation of what he'd just done hit him. Mechanically, he opened his hand and stared at the shining disk on his palm.

It had landed bad side up.

Enraged, Two-Face lunged at him furiously, grabbing him by the collar of his pajama top and hurling him into the closet door. Don landed with a solid _thud_, and the clothes bar, one of the kind that merely sits lodged between two hooks, came loose and clattered down on the floor by his legs.

"Don!" shrieked Grace. In a fraction of a second she was out of bed and kneeling at her husband's side, cradling his head against her chest. She glared up at the man she was beginning to realise she no longer loved. "What have you done to him, you monster?" she demanded.

"Not as much as I'm gonna do," he answered gruffly. He reached into his breast pocket and took out a gun, aiming it steadily at Cranston. "Move out of the way, Grace."

Grace saw movement in the shadows behind him. From out of the dark hallway, a gloved hand reached around the frame of the open bedroom door and clapped itself over the second thug's mouth. Without a sound, the man was dragged out of the room. Her eyes widened as she saw this, but she managed not to react.

"Harvey, please," she pleaded, trying desperately to buy more time for their rescuer to act. "Don't do this. For my sake?" she whispered.

Two-Face laughed coldly. "I have no reason to do anything for your sake anymore. You saw to that when you married this loser." 

Without another word he aimed the gun at Don's head and started to squeeze the trigger. 

At that moment Batman burst through the skylight in a shower of glass, feet hitting Two-Face squarely in the shoulder. The shot went wild and shattered one of the bedside lamps. 

The two combatants fell together in a heap on the floor, locked in fierce combat. Batman managed to wrestle the gun out of his adversary's hand, and it fell near Don's feet. He didn't have presence of mind to grab it, and Grace, acting by reflex, kicked it under the bed.

Slowly the Dark Knight began to gain the upper hand. He struggled to his knees and tried to drag Two-Face up with him. Unfortunately, he failed to see his opponent reach behind him and grab the metal clothes rod that Don's fall had dislodged. Waiting for the right opening, when Batman let go of his arms for a split second, holding him by one lapel preparatory to another right cross, he brought it down savagely on Batman's skull.

He let out a loud grunt of pain and sagged against the wall. Two-Face immediately went for Don's throat again. Batman staggered to his feet to try and stop them.

All three men ignored Grace, who had backed up against the side of the bed as close as she could and was sobbing hysterically.

As a result no one heard the sudden commotion on the stairs, and Commissioner Gordon had the element of surprise as he and his men burst into the room, guns drawn. "Hold it right there, Dent!" he ordered.

Two-Face paid no attention. It took, appropriately enough, two armed officers to drag him off of Cranston.

As the escaped felon was led off in handcuffs, Grace helped Donald to his feet and held him tightly, sobbing with relief and shock. She ran her hands tenderly through his pale blond hair and wiped away the trail of blood from his split lip. Batman gingerly rubbed the back of his own head. He gave his old friend a sardonic smile.

"Now that's what I call a timely arrival by the cavalry," he said. 

"Huh!" laughed Gordon shortly. "We wouldn't have gotten here at all if Benson hadn't managed to convince us he wasn't just jumping at shadows. There may be hope for that boy yet," he added as an aside. Then, "Of course, that fellow you left trussed up on the front porch helped a lot, too. We'd never have found the right house without him!"

The two of them headed for the door, so they could talk a little more privately in the hall, and leave the newlyweds alone. They were off in their own little world, anyway.

"Wait!" said Don. They turned to look at him inquiringly. "I don't know how to thank you. All of you." His wife nodded in agreement. "And, um, Batman? You, uh, owe me a new skylight."

The crimefighter looked at the torn curtains hanging limply away from the gaping hole in the ceiling and nodded. Without another word, he and Gordon headed out the door.

"You and your dramatic entrances," laughed the commissioner.

Batman crawled wearily into the Batmobile. It had been a tough night, and there were still a few things he needed to take care of. And it wasn't even quite midnight, yet. Sighing, he pressed a button on the dashboard com panel to call home.

When Alfred answered, he told him, "Well, I've got Two-Face back where he belongs — in a double-locked cell. Now I just have to — "

The butler interrupted him sternly. "Master Bruce, it's time to call it a night. Miss Selina needs you."

"I'll be right there," growled Batman, and the sleek, blue-black car raced off into the night.

A short time later, having broken his own speed records, the Batmobile screeched to a halt in the cave. Batman jumped out, ripping off his mask as he did so.

"Alfred! How is she?" he demanded.

His old friend answered with a smile, "Tired, but otherwise quite well."

Bruce started for the stairs at a gallop, but Alfred stopped him in his tracks with his next announcement.

"As are _both_ your sons, sir. Your family awaits upstairs, Master Bruce," he added, when Bruce just stood there gaping at him.

He streaked through the house and into his bedroom, eyes wide, not even thinking about the fact he was still clothed in Batman's uniform. He found Selina sitting up in bed, holding a tiny baby. Leslie Thompkins stood across the room holding the other.

Selina gave her husband a tired grin. "Once again, Batman shows up in the nick of time," she joked, much more forgiving toward him now it was all over.

"Well _past_ the nick of time, if you ask me," corrected Leslie, with a disapproving shake of her head. "Sit down, Bruce, and meet your son."

Gingerly, he sat on the edge of the bed next to Selina. Leslie gently placed the baby in his arms. For a second the great crimefighter was near panic. The last baby he'd held was his secretary's when she'd come by the office to show off her new son during the last week of her maternity leave, and that had been almost three years ago. 

He looked from one twin to the other, noticing they would definitely not be identical. The one Bruce held had his father's black hair, while his brother was blond like their mother.

Selina nodded toward the one she held. "This one's mine," she announced. "I'm going to name him Kyle. That one's yours — you get to name him."

Bruce responded slowly, "If you don't mind, I'd like...to name him _Thomas_...after my father."

Selina touched his hand, then looked up and winked at Leslie. "I knew he'd say that."

The old woman softened a little. "I hoped he'd say that." Then she got gruff again and told him, "I'll leave you to get acquainted with your new family, Bruce. But I'll have a few words to say to you later."

She left Bruce and Selina alone with their children, smiling at the picture the four of them made.

"She's going to eat me alive," said Bruce ruefully when Leslie was out of earshot.

"You'll be damned lucky if that's all she does!" warned Selina. 

They fell silent, not knowing what to say to each other, really. Any normal couple would be exulting over the joys of parenthood, discussing fears about this new situation, talking over what they wanted for their children...but the Waynes were not a normal couple. They were, in fact, so far removed from normality it never occurred to them it's what they should be doing. Just as it had never really occurred to them to choose a list of names before the babies were actually born. So, for the moment, they just sat and grinned foolishly at each other

"So?"

"So," smiled Bruce. He wasn't sure if she wanted approval, since she seemed awfully smug, or sympathy for the ordeal she'd just been through. His wife was intensely unpredictable. So he played it safe. "How are you?" he asked with concern.

Selina laughed tiredly. "I have had better nights. And believe it or not, Leslie told me I had an easier time of it than I deserved. She called it one of the quickest, easiest deliveries she's ever seen. I'd hate to see a bad one!" And this from a woman who was normally resistant to pain.

Bruce gave her kind of an uneasy grin, unsure how to respond to that. He had friends whose wives had wanted to tear their husbands' heads off immediately after having a baby, and none of those women had the temper Selina did. He looked down at the infant sleeping on his lap. "Have the cats seen the babies yet?" he asked suddenly.

"Only Isis. She hissed and pronounced them very, very, _very _evil."

"Take some getting used to, I suppose. For _all _of us." He hesitated. "Selina, are you —" he blurted out, then changed his mind.

"Am I what?"

"Um, I was going to ask if you were disappointed one of them wasn't a girl. I know you said you wanted one of each, but girls just don't run in the Wayne family, I'm afraid."

"Oh, I'm too euphoric to be disappointed in much of anything right now," she said happily, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

After Bruce had taken his turn holding Kyle, who, he noticed, was bigger and livelier, and whose colour was better, Alfred came in, grinning broadly, and took both twins to put them to bed. Neither parent was especially disappointed. It was too much to get used to all at once.

Bruce got up and moved around the room as they chatted about middle names, and the new nanny who would arrive in the morning. Divesting himself of his Batman costume, he put on a blue robe and sat down on the edge of the bed, very close to Selina. She reached out to him, the uncomfortable feeling between them disappearing now that it was just the two of them again. During their kiss, her hand discovered the lump underneath his hair where Two-Face had tried to crack open his skull.

"You didn't exactly have an uneventful night, yourself, did you?" she asked. "What happened to your head?"

"Oh, it's nothing." He shrugged it off. "Just a glancing blow from a clothes bar." 

They talked about the case for a little while, until he finally noticed she could barely keep her eyes open, then excused himself to take a shower. 

When he came out again his wife was fast asleep, and he left her that way after standing over her for several minutes, watching her tenderly. Then he went downstairs to call his mother-in-law with the news, since Selina had claimed to be too tired to do it herself. The grin on his face when he finished that conversation faded when he walked into the library and found Leslie, still waiting for him.

"I know what you're going to say," he began, holding up one hand as if to ward off the inevitable attack. "But with Robin out of town it couldn't be helped."

"Honestly, Bruce, I don't know how Selina puts up with you. I can't believe you stayed out of touch all night long, knowing your wife was past her due date and could give birth any second."

Bruce nodded understandingly. "I know, Les. I hated being out of touch, but this case — "

Leslie sighed in exasperation. "It's always 'this case' with you. If it's not Two-Face, it's the Joker or the Penguin or Poison Ivy or Ra's al Ghul, etc., etc. For years I've watched you jeopardize your health and your life on one case after another, and each one is always more urgent than the last."

"And you scold me every time."

"Because you never listen to me," she shot back. "You go right ahead and do exactly what you want. But I want you to listen to what I'm saying this time. It's not just you anymore, Bruce. You have a wife and two children who depend on you, so don't let them down."

He regarded her solemnly. "Like I did tonight, you mean."

She gave him a tender smile, seeing that she'd at least partially succeeded in getting through to him. "Well, I will admit it was a record-breaking fast labor, especially for twins. There wasn't even time to call an ambulance. But you'd been _told_ there was a family history of short labors and overdue babies, and you should have been home."

"I know," he sighed. "I meant to be here, but I had no idea it would be tonight."

Leslie snorted. He was hopeless. "You _meant_ to be here," she repeated. "I've heard that before, you know. You always meant to be here for Dick when he was growing up, too, but he still ended up spending an awful lot of time alone. If he hadn't become Robin, he'd never have seen you. Even now I don't think the boy has any idea how much you really love him. But I'm telling you now, if you don't do better by the twins than you did with Dick, you'll have to answer to me!"

Bruce laughed and hugged her. "You're right, Leslie. As usual. What would I do without you chewing me out on a regular basis?"

"I shudder to think," she said lightly, shaking her head. Then she added solemnly, "I know it was losing your parents like you did that drives you to this obsession. You don't want any other child to ever go through what you did. So remember that with your own children, Bruce. Don't deprive them of their father while you're out saving the world. That would make a mockery of your parents' death."

With that, she strode out of the library, not giving him a chance to respond. She had played her trump card, and he would either take her words to heart, or carry around a tremendous load of guilt. But he would remember.

He sat up till daybreak thinking about what she had said, and trying to get everything straightened out in his head. He had always scorned the idea that he put on the costume and went out to fight crime because it was so much easier than dealing with his real life, but he was beginning to wonder. There was no question that the fight with Two-Face had been a lot easier than facing his own wife and holding two tiny babies he was suddenly responsible for.

Months ago, when he and Selina had gotten married, he had made a half-hearted offer to leave it all behind and stop being Batman. He had, in fact, given her the responsibility for making the decision whether or not he should end his double life. And she had promptly handed it right back to him, telling him that if he gave it up for her, she would disappear and he would never see her and their baby again. Once he recovered from the shock of that threat, and the even bigger shock of finding out she meant it, he had discovered what she feared most: if he gave up being Batman before he was ready, just for her sake, he would end up holding it against her and the resentment would come between them. And he had to admit she had a point, since his biggest feeling when she rejected his offer of sacrifice was one of relief.

And yet...

Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea. Maybe it would all be for the best if he could just be Bruce Wayne again. That was an individual he'd come to know a little better over the last couple of years, thanks mostly to his relationship with Selina Kyle, and he wasn't such a bad person. Even Leslie admitted that, when she wasn't browbeating him. And there had been times over the years when Batman had been nothing but a millstone around his neck. Hundreds of times when he would have given up the whole crazy idea if he only could.

Being Batman had kept him from having a real personal life for the longest time. He freely admitted he used his alter ego as an excuse to avoid getting close to anyone, but there was an element of literal truth in the statement, too. When he wanted to get close to another human being, as when he met Selina, and a couple of other women as well, his secret life formed a barrier between them. It was always there, keeping him from having a normal life.

One thing he had believed absolutely was that his pain and grief fed Batman; was what kept him alive. If Bruce was happy, he believed, then Batman couldn't exist. But something happened to disprove that little theory. He had met the one woman in the world who was just like him, the one woman who could understand what drove him, and stand by him while he put his life on the line. And... Bruce was happy. And Batman was still around, still driven, still _crazy_, as some would claim.

All right. So he could be happily married and still keep his edge. Okay. He worried a little about the unfairness of putting his life on the line with Selina waiting for him at home, but not too much. After all, until she got pregnant she had been right out there on the rooftops with him. 

But what about their sons? Would it be fair to them if they grew up without a father because he got himself killed saving someone _else's _children? Or to possibly grow up without a mother... but he shied away from even thinking about that. That was something _he_ wouldn't be able to live with. 

Maybe it would be for the best if they both just gave it up. Leslie was right: they owed their children something now. His life had been _ruined _when his parents had died, and he couldn't stand the thought of that happening to his own sons. But his parents had been perfectly normal, and they'd been shot on their way home from a movie. There had been no one to protect them. How could he let Thomas and Kyle (it was hard to get used to thinking of them by name) grow up in a very dangerous city if the city had no guardian to look after it? The question went round and round and round, without him arriving at any definite conclusion. 

He hadn't realised it was starting to get light outside already. In a few hours, Selina's mother and sister would be here. He got up off the couch, stretching his aching body. Strangely enough, mentally he was feeling better. Several hours of introspection had at least clarified the problem, even if it hadn't presented any solution. He was glad to have had the chance to sit by himself in the dark and think, glad he'd sent Alfred to bed instead of accepting his offer of a cup of tea and a nice chat. Good old Alfred; he'd known Bruce all his life and probably knew exactly what he was going through.

Tea. That reminded him he hadn't had a cup of coffee in over three hours, which was something of a record when he wasn't out crimefighting. Coffee was what he lived on most of the time. As he headed out to the kitchen, he thought he could even smell it brewing.

When he drew closer, he realised it wasn't just his imagination. It really was the delicious smell of his favourite drink. _Alfred must be up already,_ he thought. But instead of finding the butler when he entered the room, it was Dick, a burgundy robe covering his red-and-green Robin costume. Or his tights, rather, as he'd left the rest of the costume, including boots, back in the cave.

"Hey, I didn't know you were back," Bruce said, pleased to see his ward. "Just in time. My coffee is _terrible!"_

Dick started to hand him the cup he'd just poured for himself, remembered just in time he'd put sugar in it, and filled another cup for Bruce. He grinned sleepily and leaned back against the counter. "Mine's not the greatest either, but I'm half dead."

Bruce sat down on a corner of the table, a habit which Alfred definitely disapproved, and held up a hand in protest. "Please! No halves or doubles, or twos or seconds or anything like that. I can't take any more."

"Oh, yeah. We heard about Two-Face on the radio coming home. So Grace is okay?"

Bruce nodded. "A little shaken, but she and Don will be fine. So will Poison Ivy, did you hear about that? Actually, I think I'm in worse shape than any of them. After going through all this 'doubles' stuff with Two-Face, I come home to find out I'm the father of twins! How's that for timing?" he grinned.

Dick woke up in a big hurry. "Twins!? You're kidding! Hey, Bruce, that's great! How's Selina?"

"She's... wonderful," he said softly, with pride in his voice, then looked a little embarrassed at showing his feelings. "She's as proud as a cat showing off her kittens, appropriately enough."

It was greatly to Bruce's credit that he didn't even think of asking about the Fisherman until he'd told Dick all about the new arrivals. As soon as the subject came up, Dick lost all of his enthusiasm.

"Well, that didn't come off so well. Sorry. I hoped we'd be able to catch him for you." His guardian said nothing, positive or negative. "We caught up to him upstate, and at least managed to keep him from killing a couple of campers, but we lost him in Connecticut. And you know how they are about costumed types there, so we let the authorities know he was in the area and came back home. Sorry," he said again.

"I was hoping for a different outcome," Bruce said with more than a little aggravation. 

"So were Batgirl and I," the younger man pointed out. He sighed again. There was a note in his voice when he said _Batgirl_ that made Bruce wonder if failing to apprehend the serial killer was all that was bothering him, or if it was something a little closer to home, like a fight with his girlfriend. But he didn't ask, figuring it was none of his business.

As Leslie pointed out, he had a lot to learn about being a father.

"Hey," he said, more lightly. "You want to see your 'brothers'?" he offered. Dick agreed quickly, mollified more by the term than anything else, and the two of them headed for the stairs, once more in perfect accord.


End file.
